


when you were a child (you got lost in the wild)

by revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01)



Series: we live or die to take the throne [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Planet Ilum (Star Wars), Planet Zakuul (Star Wars), Pre-Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire, Valkorion is the Actual Worst, Valkorion raises the Jedi Knight, i would like to stab him, the tags in this AU really do be wild lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/revanchxst
Summary: Lia doesn’t understand a word they’re saying, not really. She can hear them, but it’s like everything they say is garbled static in her mind; all she can think of is everyone dead, dead, dead, and she has to fight, and they’re walking into the main hold now and they’ll see her any minute now, they’ll look around the corner and see, and she doesn’t understand the gold armor but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter.Everyone is dead.The first speaker sucks in a sharp breath and the two of them stop just inside the hold. “May Scyva bless their souls,” they murmur, “and may Izax carry them home.”[or: a Gathering, an attack, and a rescue.]
Relationships: Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython & Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython, Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython & Valkorion
Series: we live or die to take the throne [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153424
Kudos: 3





	when you were a child (you got lost in the wild)

**Author's Note:**

> hello there who would like to join the "murder Valkorion painfully with a rusty spoon" club?
> 
> backstory fic, shows how Lia ended up on Zakuul and under Valkorion's tutelage. it's fun, it's great, i hate everything.
> 
> title is twisted a little from "the yawning grave" by lord huron
> 
> "I tried to warn you when you were a child  
> I told you not to get lost in the wild  
> I sent omens and all kinds of signs  
> I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes
> 
> Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you  
> (You can run but you can't escape)  
> Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins  
> (You will open the yawning grave)"

Lia’s been waiting to be called for the Gathering for  _ months. _ The most important part of the padawan trials, the Gathering is what marks a youngling a true Jedi: the chance to go to the sacred world of Ilum and find a kyber crystal, the chance to forge a lightsaber, the weapon of a Jedi. And with a lightsaber in hand, Lia will finally,  _ finally _ get to be a padawan, get to have a master. Maybe Master Satele will choose her? It’s unusual for the Grand Master to take a padawan, since running the Order is so time-consuming, but Lia knows she’s unique. She’s one of the best duelists in her peer group, and she’s  _ strong, _ has a more instinctive, tight connection to the Force than anyone but Youngling Akarr (J’lima had been so disappointed to hear this particular Gathering was full and she’d need to wait until the next one). Maybe that’s enough for her to be an exception? She wants a master - she wants a  _ good _ master. One just as strong as she is.

Ilum is a glorious place, even though it’s  _ freezing _ \- it’s not as dry as Hoth, but between the cold and the low humidity, the master escorting them, Master Arca, had made sure to give Lia specialized cold-weather gear. Nautolans aren’t designed for ice and snow and wind, he’d explained, and the moment she’d stepped out onto the wind-whipped plains, she’d understood. It’s  _ kriffing cold. _ It makes her tentacles hurt.

She wishes J’lima was here. At least then she’d have someone to talk to - as it is, the rest of the younglings going through the Gathering are a couple of years older than her. Most of them are thirteen, one’s even  _ fourteen, _ and they’ve all already got potential masters, mostly knights, and she’s smaller than them, can barely keep up as they race each other across the plain to the kyber temple’s entrance. Master Arca waits for her, but honestly, it’s  _ embarrassing _ having to be accompanied to the temple door by an old Gran who’s been escorting younglings to Ilum for  _ fifty years. _

If J’lima was here- J’lima is eleven like Lia, is a similar size and after all the time they’ve spent sparring with each other, they’re really well matched physically. If J’lima was here, Lia would have someone to race, would have someone to tackle into a snowdrift taller than she is.

But Lia is almost a padawan, she’s not a  _ child _ anymore. She doesn’t need to start snowball fights and fill the air with cheerful shrieks, not like the rest of the younglings; she’s nearly a proper Jedi, and she can act like one. She doesn’t need her best friend with her.

Besides. Master Arca told them they’d have to get their kyber crystals individually - this is meant to be a trial that forces a youngling to face their greatest fears and weaknesses. And that has to be done alone. So Lia squares her shoulders under her thick coat and determinedly walks through the temple doors. She’s going to do this, going to prove they were right to bring her here so young. She can handle being alone.

The ice caves are huge and winding and dark, lit only by the soft glow of the kyber in the walls; Lia has an advantage over her other younglings there, though, with eyes designed to see in the depths of the ocean. It makes it easier to navigate, to be as confident as she can as she walks further and further away from Master Arca and safety. She only has a limited amount of time to find her crystal before the ice freezes over the entrance again, and she won’t, she  _ won’t _ fail, but how is she supposed to know what crystal is hers? There are so  _ many _ of them and the Force is so loud with all their singing, and she just wants to get out of here and go home to Tython, wants to build her lightsaber and show J’lima the blade, wants to sneak out to the Tythos River delta and swim along the riverbed hunting for polished rocks and other treasures. She wants to go  _ home. _

Abruptly, the passage in front of her twists around a tight corner, and then it drops off into  _ nothingness _ and before Lia can stop herself she’s slipping on gravel on the ground and tripping, and she flails one hand out but there’s nothing to catch herself on and then she’s  _ falling. _

She screams, but she’s alone and there’s no one to hear, no one to  _ help, _ and her instincts take over from the blinding rush of  _ panic _ long enough for her to tuck into a roll as she hits the ground. It  _ hurts, _ all over, like every inch of her body has been hit with a training saber as hard as J’lima can swing it, and she rolls and rolls until she crashes into a wall.

Lia doesn’t move, clings tight to her knees and keeps her eyes squeezed shut and struggles to breathe. She  _ hurts, _ and she’s alone, and what if she’s trapped and can’t get back up?

_ You’ll never be able to find that out laying here like a child, _ a familiar voice whispers, and Lia pries her eyes open and looks around, cautiously sits up.

“J?” she asks, even though that’s  _ impossible, _ J’lima is back on Tython. But that was her best friend’s voice.

The cave she’s in is empty, though, just spears of ice and rock sticking up from the ground and a faint glow coming from somewhere she can’t quite pick out.  _ You’re alone, _ J’lima’s voice says, and there’s a flicker of motion, and Lia pushes to her feet just as her friend comes into view, short, fluffy dark hair and the tiny nubs of her horns growing in and the markings twisting across her face.  _ No one is coming to save you, Lia. _

Lia chokes a little on a breath, tightens her gloved hands into fists and takes a step away from the wall. “That’s a lie, Master Arca wouldn’t leave me here. When I don’t come out of the caves, he’ll find me.” It’s not her  _ fault _ she fell, and she’s  _ eleven, _ she can’t jump up and get back onto the path, they won’t leave her here because she  _ fell! _

J laughs and the sound is like the wind howling across the plains outside.  _ You think the Jedi will want a youngling who can’t find her own way out of her mistakes? _ she says, scornful, eyes flashing, and no, that can’t be right-  _ They took a risk, letting an eleven year old tag along to the Gathering, and they were wrong, weren’t they. You’re not ready to be a Jedi at all - you’re just a little girl crying for someone to save her after she trips and falls. _

And Lia  _ snaps, _ a little. “Shut  _ up! _ You’re not even here, the masters thought I was more worthy than you, so what does that mean about you, if I’m not ready to be a Jedi? You’re a failure just like me!”

She doesn’t mean it. She regrets the words the moment they leave her mouth. But she’s  _ angry _ and cold and she wants to go  _ home, _ she doesn’t want to be here in the dark and the ice.

J’lima just looks at her, very steady, for a long time.  _ Very well, _ she says, and her voice doesn’t sound like her anymore, sounds hollow and old and echoing like the very bones of the universe.  _ If that’s your decision, so be it. _

“Wait,” Lia protests, but J’lima’s already fading away, is  _ gone, _ and oh, Force, she’s  _ alone. _ Alone in the dark. “J, don’t  _ leave, _ don’t leave me alone, I’m  _ sorry-” _

There’s no answer, just the quiet whisper of air moving through the ancient tunnels and the faint clatter of rocks falling, and she’s going to be alone here forever, she gave into her anger and she yelled at J and she’s  _ failing- _

_ The Gathering will test your ability to face your greatest fears, _ Master Arca had said.

Fears. This is about facing her fears.

Lia takes a deep breath, though she’s shaking and it feels like her lungs are going to seize up. If she’s alone here-

She has to accept that. She has to, to let that fear go. And it  _ burns, _ she’s so scared that she’ll be stuck here forever, she’ll never see her friend again, but-

“If I have to be here alone,” she says, voice quavering, and her heart is pounding but she forces the words out anyway, “then- I accept that, and the Force- the Force will protect me.”

For a moment, nothing happens, and she takes another shaking breath, and then there’s a grinding noise from behind her. Lia  _ whirls, _ but there’s nothing there, just-

The ice has shifted away and behind it is a glowing crystal so bright she has to squint to look at it. A kyber crystal, Lia knows it in her bones, and it’s calling  _ to her, _ singing in the Force, and she’s reaching out a hand to take it before she can even think. It’s warm and pulses like a heartbeat in her fist and she stares at the soft glow, touches it with one finger. Her crystal.

She  _ succeeded. _

Lia grins, closes her hand around the crystal and looks up, and behind it is a path leading away from the closed-off space she’d fallen into. A way out, maybe. Either way - she can’t just sit here and wait for someone to come find her, the- ghost of J’lima was right. She’s supposed to be a  _ Jedi, _ that means she has to solve her own problems.

She squares her shoulders, checks to make sure the kyber crystal is safe in her hand, and starts off down the path out.

~

At first, Lia isn’t sure what wakes her up. She’s still on the ship, curled up on her bunk - they left Ilum a day ago, and she’d spent most of her time after building her new lightsaber. It sits on the small shelf next to her bunk with its pale blue blade, and she absently reaches out to touch the hilt, the white and gold metal that’d called to her when Master Arca told them to pick out their materials. She loves her lightsaber, and she can’t wait to show it to J’lima, when they finally get back to Tython.

The ship shifts strangely and she frowns, pushes herself upright in her bunk - she’d been the first one to create her lightsaber, so she’d gone to bed early, before the others - and looks around. The room is still empty, which doesn’t make  _ sense, _ and-

The engines aren’t running. They should be in hyperspace, Lia is familiar with the way the ship hums around her, got used to it on the two-week flight from Tython to Ilum. Why aren’t they in hyperspace?

“Master Arca?” Lia calls, sitting up and sliding her feet into her boots. She doesn’t reach for the band to tie her head-tentacles back from her face, just lets them fall around her shoulders as she grabs her lightsaber and crosses the room, palms open the door and looks out into the main corridor.

The lights are off. That’s the first sign something’s wrong - the hallway is only lit by the low red glow of emergency lighting. Did they lose main power somehow? She frowns, walks down the corridor to the main hold, where just a few hours ago the rest of the younglings had been trying to build their lightsabers under Master Arca’s guidance. There’s no sound coming from it, which doesn’t make  _ sense, _ if they’ve lost power there should at least be a couple of people out here working to fix it-

Lia leaves the corridor behind and walks into a scene straight out of a nightmare.

She can’t even  _ breathe. _ The first thing she sees is the Mirialan youngling, Ketsa, sprawled on the floor less than a meter from Lia’s boots; her eyes are open and staring wide and unseeing into space and her muscles are slack and there are pieces of a lightsaber scattered by an outstretched hand. And beyond her is another youngling, and another, and further into the room is  _ Master Arca _ with a great bloody hole ripped through his chest, and someone’s screaming, on and on, a high-pitched whine and she claps her hands over her ears but it doesn’t stop. Oh no, oh  _ Force, _ the Force is  _ empty _ and she- she- she’s  _ alone on the ship, _ and there’s blood all over the floor, and she’s crashing to her knees and vomiting onto the slick metal. The scream stops the moment she’s sick and some part of her realizes it’s  _ her _ screaming, and-

Everyone’s dead.  _ All of them. _ Master Arca and the rest of the younglings and the pilots in the cockpit and-

How is she alive? How did  _ she _ survive? Is it because she went to sleep? Who could’ve  _ killed Master Arca? _

She’s breathing too fast and shallow, the room is spinning a little, and it’s all Lia can do to stagger to her feet again, to force herself to the cockpit - she needs to, to send out a signal. A distress signal, right? To the Council, to the Jedi, to someone,  _ anyone, _ she can’t do this, she can’t, she’s just a youngling, they  _ killed the master _ and she’s never seen this much blood in her life and she’s  _ alone- _

There’s a shuddering sound, like someone docking with the ship, and Lia chokes down her hysteria, grabs onto her lightsaber hilt in her damp palms and presses herself against the wall. They’ve come back, they found out they hadn’t finished the job, they’ve come back to kill her just like Ketsa and the others, but Lia  _ won’t let them, _ she was the best at saber combat other than J’lima, she won’t let them kill her. She  _ won’t. _

She’s shaking and she can barely breathe around the tight knot of screams and rage and pain in her chest and it feels like the blank look on Ketsa’s face and the blood on Master Arca’s robes have been painted onto her eyes, and it’s all she can do to keep herself from throwing up again, but there are footsteps coming down the corridor from the airlock and she can just barely hear voices, and she has to hear, she has to  _ know. _

“... it was a direct order from the Immortal Emperor, so I heard,” one is saying. “I don’t question those. You shouldn’t either, if you want to advance.” The Emperor? Are they  _ Sith? _ What would Sith be doing out near Ilum?

“I’m not questioning it,” a second voice says, sounds almost defensive. “Just think it’s strange, is all. I’ve never seen a ship like this before, but even I can tell it’s dead in space - whatever hit them did a good job of it.”

Lia doesn’t understand a word they’re saying, not really. She can hear them, but it’s like everything they say is garbled static in her mind; all she can think of is everyone  _ dead, dead, dead, _ and she has to fight, and they’re walking into the main hold now and they’ll see her any minute now, they’ll look around the corner and see, and she doesn’t understand the gold armor but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t  _ matter. _

Everyone is dead.

The first speaker sucks in a sharp breath and the two of them stop just inside the hold. “May Scyva bless their souls,” they murmur, “and may Izax carry them home.”

She doesn’t wait to hear anything else. Lia ignites her new saber and hurls herself around the corner and into the room, lunges forward and stabs the pale blue blade into a chest, drags it free and ducks an arm and cuts through legs, and she’s shaking and she can barely stay upright between the blood on the floor and the terror and  _ sickness _ in her veins. One of the people lets out a shout as they fall (and the other is silent and collapsing, are they collapsing just like Ketsa did?) and there’s footsteps pounding down the corridor and Lia presses herself against the wall next to the doorway and waits, heart shuddering unevenly in her throat, choking her.

Someone shouts something that sounds like a name and then there’s another person in gold armor bursting through, and Lia shoves her foot out to catch their ankle, and the force wrenches her leg all wrong and sends her staggering against the wall but they crash to the floor, and she pushes off the wall and drives her lightsaber into their back, hands shaking and pain radiating up into her hip, and a Force-signature snuffs out, one, two, and she’s going to be  _ sick- _ But there are more now, two more rushing towards her and she shifts into the opening stance of Shii-cho and puts as much weight as she dares on her leg, and then one of them ignites a lightsaber (blue blade, she doesn’t  _ understand) _ and it snaps out into a  _ pike _ and Lia doesn’t know how to fight  _ two blades, _ she’s just a youngling, they hadn’t gotten that far yet-

“Hey!” the one with the saber says. “What in Tyth’s name do you think you’re  _ doing?” _ And they attack.

She catches the first strike on her saber blade, stumbles back from the force of it, so strong it rattles her arms, and she’s barely able to bring her blade back to block the phrik end of the pike, there’s too many blades and her leg  _ hurts _ and it won’t quite hold her weight, her stance is all off and she can’t  _ breathe. _

“She’s just a kid, Nevyn!”

“Tell that to the three dead Knights on the ground,” the one attacking her spits.

She didn’t mean to kill anyone, she never meant to kill anyone, she’s a Jedi, she just- they killed Master Arca and all the younglings and they’re going to  _ kill her _ and she’s never been this utterly terrified in her life. And the man attacking her jerks his saber pike in a quick one-two and the end of the pike cracks across her face, she lets out a noise and pulls one hand from her saber hilt to press against the pain blossoming across her cheek and chin and nose, and she staggers back but the saber comes down and  _ twists _ and her saber is flying across the room. And she’s defenseless, she  _ hurts, _ and she tries to take a step back and her twisted leg buckles and she slips on the bloody floor and falls, and no, no,  _ no! _

All the nausea and horror and terror living in her veins like electricity boils over and Lia throws out her hands and shouts,  _ “No!” _ and the Force is an ocean around her, a tsunami rushing through her being and erupting outwards in a geyser from her palms, and the man in front of her (Nevyn, that’s a name, she thinks) is  _ flung _ into the wall hard enough something cracks in his gold armor, and the other one, the one who spoke, the one who’s been standing back watching, starts towards her.

And no. No, she’s not going to  _ die, _ Lia scrambles back across the floor and tries to push to her feet, but she hurts and there’s blood all over her hands and she can’t breathe, there’s blood dripping from her nose and it’s all she can do to reach her hand out and call her saber back to her.

“Hey, easy, kid,” the other person says, and they reach up and pull off their gold helmet and it’s a human woman, with brown hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck and dark eyes and dark skin. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You killed them,” Lia says, wild, and she pushes further back and tries not to look at Master Arca, just a meter away from her on the floor. He’d been so  _ nice _ to her and- and- “You killed them.”

“That wasn’t us,” the woman says, her voice low and soothing. “Your ship was disabled before we ever got here. It’s alright. My name is Jenna, let’s get you off this ship and cleaned up, alright?”

Lia doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t back up again when the woman, when Jenna, comes closer to her. She’s trembling so hard she can barely hold her lightsaber and there’s so much  _ blood, _ and now that she’s stopped moving all she can see is all the bodies and all she can feel is  _ pain. _ “What’s your name, kid?” Jenna kneels down in front of her and Lia flinches, just a little, when the woman reaches out to her.

“Lia,” she says faintly, and her voice is just as shaky as her hands.

“And how old are you, Lia?”

“Eleven,” she whispers. “I was- I was sleeping, I woke up and they were all  _ dead.” _

She’s trying not to cry. But there’s heat welling up behind her eyes anyway and the horror of it all is starting to sink into her bones and all she can smell is blood and she wants to be  _ away from here. _ She wants J’lima and the Temple and the river.

But she can’t have them. Instead, there’s the woman offering to take her away and get the blood off her and maybe help the pain.

Lia wants to be  _ away. _ And if she can’t go home, well-

“I hurt my leg,” she tells Jenna. “I- don’t know if it’ll hold me.”

Jenna smiles at her and puts the helmet back on her head. “You’re small enough I should be able to carry you, if you’ll let me. It’s not far to our ship.” Lia nods and Jenna stands, then crouches down and puts one arm under Lia’s knees and the other behind her back and hefts her up, and Lia grabs onto her shoulder to steady herself.

“Thank you,” she says, voice too raspy, and she’s not sure but she thinks the woman is smiling, still.

Jenna takes Lia back to her ship, spacious and clean and a strange design, different from anything Lia’s ever seen before. She doesn’t think it’s Sith - the Empire wouldn’t be all the way out here, and these people don’t feel like Sith. They don’t have the same choking feel of  _ Dark _ around them, and they don’t feel hostile at all, now that she’s stopped fighting them.

She doesn’t let herself think about the bodies on the floor of her ship, the ones that aren’t getting back up again because of  _ her. _

When she apologizes for that, though, Jenna just shakes her head. “Don’t worry,” she says. “You were afraid and after what you’d just seen, none of us blame you.” 

Lia doesn’t quite think that’s true - Nevyn, the one she’d thrown into the wall, has been glaring at her since Jenna got her into fresh clothes and cleaned off. The rest of their… squad, team, she’s not sure, hadn’t been too upset, at least, and one of them had even congratulated her on her saberwork, called it impressive for her age.  _ Though sloppy against a double-sided weapon, _ he’d added, and Lia had been forced to explain that she’s never fought one before. The advanced weapons, after all, aren’t taught until they become padawans, because they’re more dangerous.

Even with Nevyn’s anger, the atmosphere of the ship is so much  _ better _ than the one she left behind. There’s no blood, no dead bodies, and she can almost forget about Master Arca as Jenna tells her about the world they’re taking her to. A planet named Zakuul, seat of the Eternal Empire and its Immortal Emperor Valkorion. And Lia had thought Emperors were generally bad people, but everyone around her - Knights of Zakuul, they tell her - speak of Emperor Valkorion with genuine warmth and sincerity. They  _ love _ him, respect him, and he’s a good leader, has brought their planet to prosperity.

He seems like a good man, from their descriptions, and Lia thinks Zakuul doesn’t sound so bad, even if it isn’t home. She could stay for a few days, maybe, before they send her back to Tython - like a vacation. That’d be nice, and she’d have a story to tell J’lima.

Jenna smiles at her, when she says that. There’s something a little sad about that smile, but Lia is exhausted and her face aches and she doesn’t want to think about blood and bodies on the floor, so she doesn’t ask, doesn’t question. She just curls up on an empty bench and listens to the Knights talk, and maybe she dozes, a little. Time blurs and soon enough, Jenna is shaking her shoulder lightly, telling her they’ve arrived on Zakuul.

“You’ll love the Spire,” the woman says cheerfully, putting a hand on Lia’s shoulder and guiding her towards the ship’s ramp. “It’s beautiful, and we have everything we could ever want or need. The crime rate is extremely low and no one has to be afraid.”

It sounds  _ nice. _ But Jenna never has the chance to show her around.

When they step off the ship’s ramp, there’s a woman waiting for them. She’s wearing armor like Jenna, but it’s white and black instead of gold, and she’s not wearing a helmet, has black hair pulled back in a bun and dark blue eyes that look kind, even if her face is stiff and formal. “Knight-Commander Tirall,” Jenna says, sounds shocked, and bows. “This is- a surprise. What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to relieve you of your charge,” the Knight-Commander says, looks at Lia and beckons her forward. And she  _ hesitates, _ but in the end, what is she going to do? Maybe the Knight-Commander can take her home.

And Lia is a Jedi, so she bows before she steps away from Jenna’s side, and something softens a little in the Knight-Commander’s face when she does. “My name’s Lia, I’m from Tython,” she says, and most people know that means she’s a Jedi, but the woman doesn’t seem to realize it. Maybe it’s because of how far Zakuul is from the rest of the galaxy?

“It’s good to meet you, Lia,” the woman says warmly. “I’m Senya Tirall - I’m going to take you to meet the Immortal Emperor.”

The Immortal Emperor. Valkorion. The man Jenna had said so many good things about. The ruler of Zakuul wanting to meet  _ her _ is good, right? Unless he’s angry that she- that she-

No, she can’t think about that.

So Lia nods, and lets Senya show her to a speeder, and she leans over the side and stares out at the city - the Spire - as they fly. It’s  _ huge, _ like nothing she’s ever seen before: grand and beautiful and building up on itself instead of spreading out, people using airspeeders to fly between levels, and there are statues and art and fountains, and droids everywhere. Senya doesn’t slow down to let her look, though, just flies them higher and higher until they’re at the pointed top of the pyramid. She stops the speeder at a landing platform, leads Lia down a wide street surrounded by gardens and landscaping, to a great glass and gold double door. There are guards there, in black and grey and gold armor that’s different from Senya’s and the other Knights, but they snap to attention as Senya walks up to them.

There are more guards inside, some in that different armor - Senya calls them Horizon guards - and some Knights, and even more of the white droids she calls skytroopers. Lia could spend hours looking around this palace, with its huge archways and art and all the people, but Senya doesn’t let them linger, just leads her to a turbolift. People greet them as they pass, most of them respectfully, although one man cheerfully asks Senya where she pulled a fourth kid from. That gets laughter from people around them, and Senya rolls her eyes, but there’s a fond smile on her face.

“You have kids?” Lia asks, as they step into the turbolift and the doors close behind them, and Senya presses a button and the lift shoots upward.

“I do,” Senya says. “Twin sons, Arcann and Thexan, and a daughter, Vaylin. You’ll meet them soon.”

Lia doesn’t want to meet more people. She wants J’lima and the masters at the Temple and to forget that the first thing she did with her Jedi lightsaber was kill.

But she can’t say that. So she just pushes her shoulders back and clasps her hands together in front of her as the lift continues to rise, further and further until they must be kilometers high. When it finally stops, opens out into a huge room, a walkway down the center and a dais at the end, all surrounded by transparisteel, Lia’s guess is proven accurate: outside the windows is the blackness of space, and hanging in the space around the building are hundreds of strangely-shaped ships. They’re in a  _ starscraper. _ She’s heard of them, of the theory, a building that rises above a planet’s atmosphere, but the last attempt to build one on Coruscant had gone wrong and they hadn’t tried since. J’lima is  _ never _ going to believe this.

Senya puts a hand between her shoulders, nudges her forward, and Lia tears her eyes from the ships and space and focuses straight ahead. There’s something prodding the edge of her awareness in the Force, something massive and undefinable, and she reaches out to it as she walks down the walkway, between the two rows of Knights. It’s not until she comes to a stop at the dais and looks up to see that the man who’d had his back to them is now standing in front of her, looking down at her, that she realizes the presence she’s feeling is  _ him. _

This must be the Immortal Emperor, Valkorion. His Force-signature is vast and inexorable, like the tides - no, like the galaxy’s rotation, and it feels like he could  _ consume _ her if she gets too close. And he’s smiling, something benevolent and warm, but in the Force he’s so  _ cold. _ Lia shivers and pulls up shields, tucks her awareness behind them so she doesn’t have to feel the universe swallowing her whole.

Valkorion himself is in white and black and gold, dark hair with a bit of silver in it, and his eyes are older than they should be, old like they’ve seen  _ centuries. _ “Welcome, child,” he says, and he smiles, and it reminds her of the masters she’s pointed out to J’lima, certain that  _ they _ would be the one to pick her.

(This is a truth: Valkorion has always been very good at concealing his hunger.)

“Thank you,” Lia says, a little awkwardly. “Your planet is very nice, but I’d like to go home to Tython.”

He looks nice. And Jenna had said he’s a good man, a good ruler - he’ll help. He  _ has _ to help.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Valkorion says, and something in her chest  _ breaks. _ “We don’t have established hyperspace lanes that lead back to the rest of the galaxy. There is no way to send you back, Lia.”

She doesn’t think to ask how he knows her name.

“But-” she starts, and her voice is shaking again and she hates it, but she  _ wants to go home, _ “what about my friends? The Jedi? My  _ training?” _

“I’m certain you can make friends here,” Valkorion says to her, and- and  _ maybe, _ but none of them will be J’lima. “As for your training… I’ve had a report from my Knights that you’re quite skilled with a lightsaber for one so young, and I can feel your strength. The Jedi never would’ve been able to recognize that power, that potential, but I do. I’ll complete your training myself.”

And Lia… stops, for a minute. “Like a master?” she asks. The one thing she’s wanted since she was old enough to understand, the real reason she’d been so excited for the Gathering. Jedi lineages are like family, and to be chosen by a good master means you’re  _ worthy _ of that family.

“Yes, Lia,” Valkorion says, and he smiles with his ice-chip eyes, and he puts a hand on her shoulder and it feels like the first comfort she’s had since she woke up and saw Master Arca dead on the floor. “Exactly like a master.”


End file.
